


Idle Hands Are A Terrible Thing To Waste (Or Something Like That)

by SolarMorrigan



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bond and Q in a shack in the middle of nowhere, M/M, Q Is Bored, Stream of Consciousness, hiding from some bad guys, this is very silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-06-23 11:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15604956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: Bond and Q go off the grid to keep Q safe from a bad person who's after him. Unfortunately, this leaves Q without anything to work on, and a bored Q is not a happy Q (and a Bond saddled with a bored Q is not a happy Bond)





	Idle Hands Are A Terrible Thing To Waste (Or Something Like That)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little more story idea than story, it breaks the fourth wall a wee bit at the end, but I'm amused with it and it was fun to write, so here's this. It was written for the prompts "Survival/Wilderness Fic" and "Married To The Job" as part of [this trope writing meme](http://solarmorrigan.tumblr.com/post/174317992198/fanfiction-trope-mash-up), as requested by castillon02 on Tumblr
> 
> Originally posted here as part of a collection, which I've deleted; if you left kudos or a comment for this fic there, please know that I've saved them to look upon and cherish (also, thank you)

Okay, we’re going to focus more on the “wilderness” part, as opposed to the “survival” part, because I’ve no idea what to do if a person is stranded in a jungle or on a deserted island and frankly the idea is disturbing, so. Wilderness.

Let’s say that someone is after Q. Hardcore after him, will stop at nothing, wants Q dead as a doornail, whatever that means. And they’re good at what they do – they are  _very_  good at what they do. No one is sure how, but they manage to track Q through three different MI6 safe houses and it’s really getting ridiculous, so they revamp their approach. They narrow down the amount of people who know where he is and what’s going on to exactly three people: M, Q himself, and Q’s newest bodyguard – the one and only (thank god) 007. Then they shuffle Q right off the grid.

Like, really off the grid.

They have somehow acquired—Q wasn’t particularly keen on the  _how_  so much as the  _why, god, why_ —a cabin in the woods. Very, very far into the woods. If “nowhere” was an actual location and that location had a forest, Q thinks they would actually be somewhere beyond that forest.

At this cabin, they have a generator and they have running water. That’s really it. It is politely described as “rustic.” It is less politely described as “bloody awful, Bond, just let the terrorist have me and get it over with.”

Bond is much too amused with the situation.

Of course, for all Q complains, he’s doesn’t actually want whoever’s after him to get him. His sense of self-preservation might not be the strongest in the world (and whose in their line of work is, really), but he’s not actually suicidal, and he’s fairly certain Bond knows that, which he’s  _fairly certain_  only amuses Bond more, because the man is terrible. Really, Q can stand not having modern amenities, he can, it’s just – well, after the last safe house went up in very literal flames, he didn’t have much time to grab anything. They picked up a few changes of clothes and some food and some other necessities on their way up to the cabin, but what Q didn’t have was his work.

A laptop wouldn’t have been much use, of course, since they’re very, very far from getting any kind of internet connection, but Q wouldn’t have minded having one of his pet projects to work on. There were all sorts of thing he was designing and building that he could have brought along. Instead, he’s stuck in a cabin in the woods with  _nothing_.

Bond rather unkindly tells him to stop moaning about it (and he’s hardly  _moaning_ , really, he’s raising valid points in favor of keeping himself mentally stable) and to look at it as some time off.

That’s easy for Bond to say, of course; his job is to guard Q, so technically he’s always working and therefore always busy. He got to bring his work with him. Q, on the other hand, is about ready to climb the walls after the first day.

He  _needs_  to work.

He disassembles and reassembles their few electronics (a toaster and a stereo that will only play static and cassette tapes), cleans them, ensures they run at peak function, and does it one more time to be sure. He does the same thing with the two lamps in the cabin. Bond sits by the front door as much to guard Q from any threats as to stop Q from going out and fucking with the generator (and Q doesn’t plan on doing so, really, because he  _likes_  having electricity, thank you very much, but he is a little insulted that Bond thinks he’ll actually break the generator).

Day three dawns and Q can’t just keep disassembling and reassembling the toaster. He tells Bond as much while confiscating and cleaning each of his weapons in turn. Bond is perfectly capable of caring for his own weapons (the ones he doesn’t lose), but he leaves Q to it because it keeps him quiet. Really, Bond finds Q’s company perfectly enjoyable so long as the man is occupied.

Cleaning the weapons gives way to cleaning the cabin. Bond is fairly certain the cabin hasn’t been this clean since it was built. He suspects the oven would actually sparkle if he shined a light inside. Never mind Q’s physical safety, at this point he’s growing a little concerned for the quartermaster’s mental health. While going back to civilization is decidedly not an option, Bond needs to intervene before Q makes good on the calculating looks he’s started throwing the vehicle they drove up in.

So he assigns Q the task of keeping them warm and fed and comfortable. Fetching firewood, tending the fire, cooking, cleaning, et cetera. Q tells Bond he is not some kind of housewife. Bond agrees wholeheartedly – and not just because Q says this as he is brandishing the axe for the firewood. He does mention that it seemed as though Q was looking for something to do, however, and he’s certainly a better candidate for all that stuff that Bond himself is.

Q grumbles, but throws himself into it anyway, because at least it’s  _work_. This all works fairly well for the remainder of their time there, but of course, there’s only so much time two characters in a fanfiction can spend in close quarters, euphemistically cleaning weapons before they fall into the cabin’s one (surprisingly comfortable) bed.

Really, by the end of their stay, Q is ready to admit that he’s not completely miserable; he’s still missing his work and itching to be the one tracking down whoever’s tracking  _him_  down and missing his cats and his flat, too, but he’s also getting some fresh air and staying busy and being shagged regularly (being guarded from very, very close up, Bond insists), so it’s not  _all_  terrible.

The person hunting Q does of course manage to find the cabin, where Bond and Q stage a last stand and the cabin and the bad guys are blown to smithereens (and Q absolutely did not decide to blow up the cabin on purpose, that was just a happy accident, really it was) and all returns to normal except for the part where Bond and Q decide to make a go of being together when  _not_  isolated in the woods, which turns out quite nicely.

A year later, Bond suggests renting a rustic cabin for their anniversary, for nostalgia purposes.

Q suggests Bond go fuck himself. For nostalgia purposes.

**Author's Note:**

> [Also posted on Tumblr!](http://solarmorrigan.tumblr.com/post/174358683498/00q-39-and-84-for-the-tropes-prompts)


End file.
